Heath. 
(SOLITUDE.) 
W HEN sorrow takes possession of the wounded heart; 
when love or fortune has proved unkind; when the 
best laid schemes are gone astray, what medicine can minister 
so well to the mind diseased as solitude , of which this fairy 
flower is the token ? Yes, gentle reader; when grief or trouble 
assail you for awhile, forsake the common herd ; go forth, and 
commune with Nature—with Nature, and with Nature’s God, 
and be assured that you will return to your daily duties with 
a reinvigorated soul—with a mind strengthened and “ prepared 
for any fate; ” and trust that 
“Not vainly may the heath-flower shed 
Its moorland fragrance round your head. ” 
But although solitude, dear friend, is a good tonic, taken in 
small doses and at rare intervals, beware of too great indul¬ 
gence in its attractions, or you may find the physic prove a 
poison after all; and, to quote Professor Blackie, you will 
learn to sigh, 
“Alone, alone, and all alone ! 
What could more lonely be ? ” 
To many, wandering, perchance, in foreign lands, the Heath 
is endowed with a thousand tender recollections of the past— 
the past that never comes again; and Scottish Highlanders, 
so acutely sensible are they to the associations of home, have 
been seen to weep like children, when in their distant exile 
they have beheld a bunch of simple heather. Grant thus gives 
expression to this feeling of fondness displayed by the sturdy 
Scot for his native plant: 
“Flowers of the wild, whose purple glow 
Adorns the dusky mountain’s side, 
Not the gay hues of Iris’ bow, 
Nor garden’s gorgeous, varied pride, 
With all its wealth of sweets, could cheer 
Like thee, the hardy mountaineer. 
